Pride's Shadowy Curse
by MorningStar1399
Summary: An additional battle for Beowulf to undergo: Beowulf must fight his shadow, Beoweoan, after starting a pride fight with the lesser son of Hygelac, Ecgtheow.


**Author's Note:**

**This was an essay I wrote for my English class on the epic ****_Beowulf_****, the Seamus Heaney translation. I chose the creative part, to write an additional battle for Beowulf to undergo. Since I did so well on it, and my tutor made the suggestion, I decided I'd post the battle here.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**"Pride's Shadowy Curse"**

And so Beowulf, son of Ecgtheow,

had seen five winters since his triumphant return from

his battles with the descendants of Cain. Life in the land

of the Geats, under the rule of King Hygelac, had been

luster-lacking. No beasts threatened the ring-giver nor

his subjects; no enemies sat on the brink of war, there

were no formidable foes to fight nor that fought. Peace

existed for the time, causing many a wondrous warrior

to wither.

Beowulf, son of Ecgtheow, was no

exception. The hero of hardships home and abroad felt

as though his skills in war were to be wasted. Acting

upon desires for greatness, and out of sheer pride, he

picked a fight with a man he knew could not best him.

Son of Hygelac, Eantheaow was his name, the lesser

son of the great ring-giver of the Geats. His glory was

yet to grow.

Beowulf, son of Ecgtheow, spoke:

"You, Eantheaow, lesser son of Hygelac, ring-giver of

the glorious Geats. Ages ago you bested the barbarians

of the frozen North, the Freorig-Beorn, crystal-water wizards of the water-crystal roads, with crystalline hides

and their water-magick. You, brave battler to the king,

were quick-footed and lept out of reach of their

water-jewels in time to deftly destroy the dangerous

demons of the nefarious Northern Freorig-Beorn."

Eantheaow, honored but lesser son of Hygelac, spoke:

"Indeed. That was I, seven winters ago. The heavens

surely shone upon me that devious day. There were

many a man, my father included, who wondrously

rejoiced at my rewarding return from such a perilous

endeavour. Many a man has attempted such a feat, but

only I, Eantheaow, has returned soundly, stronger than

ever before.

"But what, pray tell, is the purpose of bringing

up such a feat? Surely your successes for the ring-giver

of the Danes, King Hrothgar, are greater than my

meager yet magnificent conquest of the North?"

Beowulf permitted himself a small wolfish grin,

and announced in a voice that drew a group of men:

"I challenge you, son of Hygelac, to a piece of combat

in which the two of us shall fight for the glory of being

the stronger, the more skilled, and the quickest."

"A pride fight, Beowulf? How immoral!"

Said the lesser son of the former king. "But at least

there is a chance that, with my historic successes, I shall

come out the better warrior, the proud."

And so it was declared by an onlooker

that the two were to fight hand-to-hand the next

afternoon in the midst of the stables. Word spread

quickly of the fight to come, but miraculously it failed to

reach the ears of the brothers of Eantheaow.

When the time for the fight did occur, Beowulf met

Eantheaow in the stark stables, no steeds to be seen.

Heaven's candle glowed, flooding golden light upon the

rain-lacking clay under the feet of the fighters and the

feet of the audience. At least four-and-twenty men of all

ages attended the audacious assembly of attempted

worthiness and proven strength, all over a piece of

pride, a pitiful excuse for a head-bashing, fist-smashing,

foot-catching extravaganza. The two cared not that the

pride they fought over was already inside them, as

proven through their successes in earlier days.

As the light from God's candle glowed and cast

its fiery rays upon the crowd and fighters, Beowulf

stepped into the center of the wooden corral for the

steeds of the late ring-giver Hygelac.

Beowulf, son of Ecgtheow, spoke:

"Lesser Eantheaow, gatherers here today to witness this

feat of mastery of the art of combat, I step here before

you to announce my prior victories. We all know my

victories in the land of the Danes. I defeated the

dreaded descendants of the dreaded demon Cain, the

monster Grendel and his cursed mother. With my bare

hands and my surroundings I tore off Grendel's arm,

and with the aid of a legendary sword I beheaded the

beast's mother. Today I shall make true my promise as

I had with my daring battle with the monster Grendel:

To prove my strength I shall decline the use of

protective-wear or the use of anything to increase my

chances of winning, things I am sure my opponent shall

be quick to donn."

As Beowulf the boastful had predicted,

Eantheaow entered the corral with a leather-shirt and

pants, bracers on his forearms and boots on his feet.

"Your words ring true, Beowulf,"

the lesser son of the king said with a shake of his head,

"But I fear you shall make a sore opponent, one I shall

easily defeat."

"Let your strength do the talking,

not your face," Beowulf declared, and soon they began

to fight.

Within the first few ferocious slings of his fierce fists,

Beowulf quickly gained the upper hand. Though the

leather-armor Eantheaow wore dulled the force of the

attacks, the slayer of Grendel still managed to land

strong blows to the son of the late ring-giver, who had

passed weeks before. After hours of fateless swings

and chops, and after countless heaven-let attacks to

both brave battlers, God's hand alone could only have

ended this fierce battle. The heavens' candle struck

Eantheaow square in the face: In his temporary

blindness and while staggering breathlessly to regain

his footing, Beowulf deftly sent the man to the stable

wall, knocking a few onlookers in the process. Instantly

Eantheaow raised his hand in defeat, and the gathered

crowd cheered Beowulf's contemptible victory.

Though mead was served and Eantheaow

given aide, something in the fight did not sit well in

Beowulf's gut. When the victor went to his chamber

and his place of resting, the waking of the dream-world

was not a peaceful process. Pernicious words filled his

tired thoughts, and a woman's voice pierced his soul:

"Beowulf, the boastful, prideful son of

honorable Ecgtheow, your victory today was at a bitter

cost. The curse of pride, a sin against the time-tested

Almighty Father, has a shadowy curse. By dawn

tomorrow your fate rests in the hands of a

battle you alone can undertake. Your wolfen self,

Beoweoan, shadow of the bravest, strongest warrior

of the Geats, awaits your sins in the heart of the Deorc

Terig Forest. If you do not defeat him, your sins shall

only breed and develop, feeding him until his being

possesses your sinning soul and wins you over. You

shall become Beoweoan if you lose your fight. Rest

well, and feed the rightful wolf. I have faith in you,

Beowulf."

The woman's hooded silhouette and

faint white hair faded into the surrounding shadow

of his surreal dreams, until the now-cursed Beowulf

woke at dawn, dressed, and began his journey to

the heart of the Dorc Tegir Forest.

The birth of a shadow was decided by fate.

Whether the sinner fought to survive or was immediately

punished was up to the Righteous One. Though the

power of winning such a fight was determined both

by the fighter and by the Righteous One's plans,

the true outcome was solely upon the shadowed.

Beoweoan was no ordinary shadow, plain as

the naked eye could tell. With wolfish teeth and claws,

and coarse, dark fur decorating his legs, the shadow

was half-man, half-wolf. As long as Beowulf himself

was fed[1] by whoever decided the victory, the good

would win. However, Beowulf's fight made

Beoweoan strong, as pride was a serious offense

against the Lord.

Beoweoan waited for his opponent in the murk

of the dense trees, the clearing long lost to the

footpaths of hunters and nomads, as well as long lost

to the God's-eye. The air filled with murk, a fog so

thick at the feet all travel-sounds were muted and

silenced. Hiding in the murk were wolf-beasts,

creatures meant to weaken, creatures meant to hunt.

Beoweoan, the shadow of the Lupus Daemons[2],

commanded these beasts. As soon as the travel-weary

Beowulf entered the clearing, the order was issued.

Droves of wolf-beasts attacked. With quick motions

Beowulf deflected their teeth and claws until finally they

all ran into the fog.

Beowulf, son of Ecgtheow, spoke:

"Beoweoan, what a move of cowardice. Can you not

bear to face me yourself? Does my defeat of Grendel,

no doubt your fellow descendent, frighten you? Does

the knowledge I ripped off his arm, destroyed his

mother, his creator, and took her head as a prize worry

you? Does it not instill fear inside your bones? Or, as a

shadow, do you not have them? Do you not feel hatred,

anger, remorse, vengeance, any emotion at all? Are you

devoid of all feeling, even the feeling of man's greatest

weakness: pain? Do you not know what the taste of

your blood is? Do you not feel strong enough yourself

to fight me, Beowulf, son of Ecgtheow, galliant hero of

the Shieldings and mighty warrior of the Geats,

honorary son of the ring-giver Hrothgar, likely bane of

the lesser son of Hygelac, Eantheaow? Do my feats

intimidate you? If so, come forth and say so with

bravery and honor, and let me kill you like any warrior

would. I will even let you die with pride."

A shadow moved in front of the boaster,

and slowly a wolf-man materialized from the shadowy

fog, which was fast-vanishing. This was the cursed

Beoweoan, shadow to Beowulf, sinner of pride.

Beoweoan, shadow of Beowulf, spoke:

"You speak of yourself so well, Beowulf. You give

yourself far too much credit. Do you not see how all

of your battles were won with the aide of God? Do you

not know of my own victories? Ones made while

lacking God's affirming gaze? Did you not hear of my

slaying of the beast Gebeorg, defender of the Northern

Freorig-Beorn? While your opponent of pride may

have defeated the ice-magicians, I opened their gates.

Did you not know I defeated Hrothgar once, the man

you so greatly admire? He and I were younger, yes, but

we fought well, he and I, but I won. Perhaps it was his

pride that makes him forget our battle, or maybe it is

because I am not his, but yours. And perhaps you

heard it was I who killed your ring-giver Hygelac?

Though it may have been natural, and it may have been

glorious, I still took away his life.

"So instead of compiling your feats,

and forcing me to compile mine, let us test the

actions that have led us this far, and end this war on

pride once and for all."

With that the Lupus Daemon attacked,

his claws scratching the shirt of leather Beowulf had

worn. Though the fight was unfair, and Beowulf

eventually wounded, neither gave in, defeated. With

each deft swing of claws or fists, with each swift kick or

bite with sharp fangs, the two remained locked in a

stalemate. Both rested by night, exhausted from their

fight, but woke quickly and resumed fighting without a

second thought. The days dragged on, until the third

night had fallen, and the dawn of the fourth day

had come once and for all.

The two had fought their way throughout the

Dorc Tegir Forest, and the glimpse of a light caught

them off-guard. The fog dissipated, and green moss and

tall blades of grass appeared, trees and flowers

blooming, full of life. A small clearing was living,

standing in defiance to the decay and death drowning

our warriors, and in the center, stood a small home

Such a tender estate with such a sweet woman in front

could not possibly be there, in the murk of the forest,

but it was, and there was no doubt in its reality.

The woman turned and smiled, piercing blue

eyes meeting theirs. Her long blonde hair, platinum

through and through, and her pale, ashen skin,

contrasted the lushness surrounding her. Her sudden

appearance in their time of need was indeed a grace

from God, and in Beowulf's eyes she was an angel sent

for his salvation. Clearly now it was either his time to fall

or to prosper.

The woman spoke with a voice marked by

lacked age: "Have I waited long enough to serve you,

my Lord? For surely you have traveled such a way into

such a place, I doubt you would turn down

refreshment?" Her laughter was the peals of a thousand

silver bells, her smile chimes in the wind. Approaching

Beowulf, who collapsed at her feet, she offered bread

and mead for him to feast upon, which he took

with the proper praises, graces, and thanks.

But when she caught a glimpse of Beoweoan,

the woman grew nervous, as the Lupus Daemon began

to approach her. When he made his move, demanding

to be fed, Beowulf lept like a deer, pouncing like a lion,

and throttling like a man. Beoweoan focused his energy

on him then and there. The two fought like wolves. With

the strength received from his rushed and desperate

meal, provided by such an angel from God, Beowulf

ended Beoweoan with a blow to the chest, neck and

head, the shadow shuddering before vanishing from

sight.

"Beowulf, I wish to convey my thanks,"

said the woman, who soon approached him. "Had you

not put aside pride to rescue me from Beoweoan,

surely he would have destroyed the both of us.

Remember the lessons you have learned on this day,

and remember that just as angels take many different

forms, so do our demons. Dare not lose sight of your

morals. As punishment for your previous immorality,

you were forced to fight a fierce opponent, one

lacking morals and an understanding of fairness. But

with your strength and your morals you destroyed him,

and that is what truly matters.

"I wish to be the second to profess that you

could make a good king, as long as you learned from

this valuable experience, and all of your past ones as

well."

With a gentle smile and a fragile wave, the

woman disappeared into the house. Beowulf found

himself soon in his bed, swaddled in blankets and

leather-clothes. Upon regaining his sleep-blocked

memory, he rushed to Eantheaow and begged for

forgiveness, admitting his pride had won over him. The

two were quick to agree upon things, and left the fight in

the past. As five days had passed since anyone had

seen Beowulf, it was only right they know what

happened. So, in the great hall with chalices of mead,

Eantheaow offered the next speech for Beowulf.

Beowulf, son of Ecgtheow, stood and spoke:

"Though I am a man of moral, there are times I act

upon human tendencies. Out of boredom I struck a

piece of combat with Eantheaow, son of ring-giver King

Hygelac, God rest his soul, and won pride. I felt

something wrong, and struggled to sleep, but found

myself being given an ultimatum with no choices. I left at

dawn for Dorc Tegir Forest, and met my dark side,

Beoweoan, a man of wolf and demons no evils nor God

could have designed. His wolf-beasts attacked me

while slightly weary from travel, but I fended them off

easily. I then fought Beoweoan for three days, but to no

avail. Neither of us could win nor lose. On the fourth

morn, a beautiful clearing - a sign from God above -

with a beautiful woman was my salvation. By trying to

save her after she was kind and gave me food and

drink, I destroyed Beoweoan. Though I may have no

physical proof, as Beoweoan joined the shadows once

again, I have learned from my sins, and wish to fix the

wrongs I have done."

Eantheaow, lesser son of Hygelac, then spoke:

"Every word of his account rings with truth. He had

disappeared for five days, the fifth day having been his

day of rest after a long and strenuous battle against

many forces. The woman you describe clearly is an

angel from God, and is your salvation. For this internal

battle of demons and darkness, no proof is necessary,

but nor is there a physical prize. As you have learned

from your mistakes, that is your sole prize, as well as

what we, my family and I, are to offer you:

"Both my father and King Hrothgar of the

Danes, as well as this angel, have felt you worthy of the

throne. As my siblings and I cannot bear to rule, we ask

that you take up the throne. You possess more than

strength, as strength is not the single piece of a man that

decides whether he is good. You are clever and careful,

always making choices based on desires and intuitions

as well as what one knows is the right course of action. You have proven yourself further through this most

recent battle, and all of us here in this mead-hall would

agree you must become our ring-giver."

And so Beowulf, son of Ecgtheow, became

King of the Geats after defeating his shadow Beoweoan

and further proving his worth across

the hearts and homes of the Geats, and all those who

knew him.

[1] In Cherokee legends, there is a constant fight between two wolves inside of oneself, and whichever wolf was fed was said to win.

[2] Lupus is the Latin word for "wolf", and Daemons is the Latin word for "demons", which means Beoweoan (meaning "son of middle", just as Beowulf is "son of wolf") is truly a demon of the wolf, explaining his wolf-like appearance.


End file.
